


petezzeria: the fic

by literatureonhowtolose



Category: All Time Low, Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ordinary People, Alternate Universe - Pizza Place, Attempt at Humor, Humor, M/M, Pizza, everyone is crushing hard, god i promise i am so sorry, patrick and pete are mostly thinking about pizza though, pete is a magical pizza maker and his petezzas always save the day, this is absolutely ridiculous and gets more ridiculous as it goes on, well more like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:58:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5856796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literatureonhowtolose/pseuds/literatureonhowtolose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some time ago they had taken a decision, or well, Patrick had and the others had supported him without hesitation.<br/>They remembered all too well the day Patrick had come to them and said, looking as serious as ever: «We'll try all the local pizzerias, and I promise I'll ask the best pizza chef to marry me.»</p>
            </blockquote>





	petezzeria: the fic

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. So. As you have probably seen in the tags already, I am sorry. I truly am.  
> I was out having pizza with relatives and I was pretty freaking bored, so my mind started wandering and I put Pete's love for pizza to use. Which I shouldn't have. But there you go.  
> What is even worse, though, is that I am already thinking about making this some sort of trash series and like, write stuff in this Universe when I feel like it? I already have Part Two mostly in mind, so let me know if you want garbage to keep being thrown at you, I guess?  
> As I always specify, I'm not english. I originally write in italian and translate everything into english myself, and since english isn't my first language you might find mistakes here and there. I try my best to fix everything before posting but you never really know, so I apologise in advance and if you find something that doesn't work please tell me!!  
> I hope you enjoy this carefully cut-out slice of petezza, I'll see you in my trash can, I'm throwing a party and you're all invited if you maybe want to perhaps come k bye

It was pizza night.

Or, as they liked to call it, Petezza night.

Pete, their flatmate, was busying himself in the kitchen, while they sat around the table and stared intently at one another.

Their situation was catastrophic to say the least.

They all lived together in a claustrophobic two-room apartment. They were hardly able to pay rent and bills, kept hopping from job to job and when – miraculously enough – there was some money to spare they spent it on beers or useless stuff they found on the interwebs.  
One would hope that, amongst four adult men, at least one could look after himself and the others.

Except, no.

Lost causes. All of them.

Drowning in shit. All of them.

Suddendly, Tyler stood up.

Brendon and Jack waited patiently for him to say something.

«Wake up, we need to make money, yo!»

The other two nodded their heads. Of course it was true.

But how?

Pete had started singing to the pizzas, they could hear him from the kitchen. He was always going on about how they ended up tasting better if you showed them love.

It was then and there that Jack had the Idea, the street-walking one with a capital I.

«Guys», he said, solemnly, «we need to monetise Pete.»

As soon as Brendon and Tyler began to understand what he meant with that, a vaguely insane smile started creeping across their faces.

They ran to the kitchen, causing the sudden stop of their friend's ritual songs. Pete glared at them.

«Pete. My man.»

Brendon got closer to where he was standing and leaned over on the kitchen counter, which was covered in flour. He immediately regretted doing it, brushed the white powder off his forearms and went on talking.

«You have such an incredible talent in making pizzas.»

Pete smiled a little, returning his full attention to his creations, which were quietly sitting in the oven.

«But said incredible talent is wasted, in the darkness and the anonymity of this godforsaken place», Jack said.

«Let's open a pizzeria!», Tyler suggested.

Pete turned back to his roommates, frowning.

«What's your damage?»

Brendon shrugged.

«Well...», he started saying, only to be interrupted by Jack.

«That's not the point, don't you dare change the topic of conversation!»

Pete shook his head firmly.

«I'm not worthy. I wouldn't do them», and he pointed at the pizzas, «justice.»

All Hell broke loose.

In the midst of praise and exhortations that had as a goal that of making Pete change his perspective on the matter, the guys started arguing, accusing each other of not being persuasive enough.

The three of them all had absurdly loud voices and the entire neighbourhood was probably hearing them fight over nothing.

In the end Pete gave up and slammed his palms on the counter, producing a cloud of flour that made Tyler sneeze.

«Okay, whatever, let's do this.»

His friends smiled smugly and gave each other high-fives behind their backs.

It always worked.

«Just shut the fuck up, otherwise you'll scare the pizzas and they'll suck because of you.»

 

 

A year later, The Day came: it was time to inaugurate the Petezzeria.

In order to be able to open it, the guys had had to multiply the number of part-time jobs, borrow some money, beg on the streets, go on a quick trip to Lourdes and Brendon had even thought about making the people he slept with pay for it.

He had ended up not doing it because Jack's speech about free love and the few gratuitous pleasures of life had managed to hit him deep.

Anyway, the only thing that mattered now was that they had made it.

The place wasn't particularily big nor particularily well-appointed, but Pete's pizzas would work miracles, they were sure of it.

So sure, in fact, that Jack and Brendon had decided to spend right until the last available second distributing flyers around town, while Pete and Tyler got the restaurant ready with the help of a few friends.

«Hey!» Jack shouted, doing an embarassing little run to get to the passerby who had gotten his attention.

The guy turned, an eyebrow raised under a lock of blue hair.

It took Jack a while to regain the ability to talk.

Falling for random people he met in public places happened quite often to him – working as a waiter would challenge his insatiable libido –, but never like that. Usually he mostly just felt the need to slam them against the wall as soon as possible, or to be slammed against the wall by them as soon as possible anyway, not to hold their hand and watch cheap reality shows together on the couch, all cuddled up like couples do in the most disgustingly pathetic rom-coms.

«Huh... hey?» he repeated, more hesitantly.

They guy looked him up and down and crossed his arms.

Jack handed him a flyer. All of a sudden he had lost his eloquence, which was worrying, considering it had never happened before.

«Maybe, like, drop by?»

Jack closed his eyes, trying to fool himself into thinking that doing so would make him magically disappear.

Of course it didn't.

Since he hadn't gotten any kind of response from the guy, he opened his eyes again convinced that he would just stare into space.

No such thing.

The passerby was reading the flyer, and the more he read, the more his face lit up. It was fascinating.

«Thank you», he said, sounding genuinely grateful.

Jack raised his eyebrows. Tables had turned pretty quickly.

«Oh», he muttered, «You're welcome!»

The stranger smiled at him, and Jack felt the life leaving his body.

 

 

Alex rushed into the house without bothering not to be noisy.

The previous night, Patrick and Dallon had stayed over and they had all gone to sleep pretty late, but it was afternoon now and if the others were still asleep it was their problem.

«Wake up, you sad sacks of shit», he yelled, throwing his bag in the general direction of the coat rack, «I bring you news from the outside world.»

When he entered the living room, he found Josh and Dallon on the couch watching a documentary on platypuses.

Both of them turned towards Alex with matching inquisitive looks.

«Where's Patrick?» he asked.

«Right here», Patrick answered.

He had materialised behind him. The loose grey sweatpants he had on were slipping down his hips, and he had a glass of almond milk in hand.

Alex smirked and walked up to him, shoving the flyer against his chest.

Patrick raised an eyebrow to show his confusion, but a quick glance at the piece of creased paper was enough to clear all doubts.

Dallon and Josh left couch and platypuses to go sneak a peek.

«You know what this means, right?» Alex asked.

Josh nodded, Dallon said: «Oh, you bet.»

Patrick closed his hand around the flyer and took a sip of the milk, a resolute look on his face.

«We're back on track.»

 

 

Some time ago they had taken a decision, or well, Patrick had and the others had supported him without hesitation.

They remembered all too well the day Patrick had come to them and said, looking as serious as ever: «We'll try all the local pizzerias, and I promise I'll ask the best pizza chef to marry me.»

It had started as a game and rapidly turned into something more. Patrick travelled from restaurant to restaurant and tested the skills of every pizza maker he encountered, always bringing with him Dallon, Alex and Josh in quality of additional judges.

Up until that moment, though, he hadn't found what he was looking for.

After months of despair during which Patrick had almost given up on his quest due to lack of material (he had tried all the available pizzerias without finding one that satisfied him completely), there finally was a glimmer of hope.

He entered the Petezzeria thinking about that, his loyal companions at his heels.

To welcome them was a guy with a dazzling smile and ridiculous hair.

It was black, but a blond streak that didn't seem to have a reason to exist crossed it, bringing to mind images of skunks.

«You came», he muttered, looking at Alex as if he was the most beautiful being in the entire universe.

Alex shrugged.

«Not yet», he said nonchalantly, causing Josh's ill-concealed laughter.

Jack seemed to appreciate that not-so-subtle sexual humor, because he bowed his head

«Welcome!» he exclaimed then, turning to look at the others, «A table for four?»

The guy in the middle, who was wearing a fedora (Jack would never have thought the day would come when he'd find a guy who could wear a fedora without looking like a douchebag), confirmed: «Yes, please.»

Tyler apperead behind his friend and co-worker without needing to be called.

He had observed the scene and laid his eyes on a guy with pink hair – he supposed that was washed out red dye, but it suited him – from which he hadn't been able to divert his attention.

«Follow me, if you will», he offered.

He and Josh exchanged intense looks, the kind that – in movies – get filmed in twenty-one different ways, even upside down.

Dallon, noticing the spark, gave him an incospicuous nudge. Josh bit his lower lip.

When Brendon saw more people enter the room he stopped dead in his tracks.

He immediately decided that the fight was on: he needed to be the one to serve them and Tyler needed to let him do just that.

The reason for this was one of the newly arrived guests.

He was extraordinarily tall and had incredibly long legs, but he didn't have the slightest bit of the clumsiness that usually comes with guys like him. He was, actually, very elegant.

And his absolutely perfect and impeccable hair almost unsettled Brendon, who was used to always being the one with the best hairstyle in the room.

When Tyler came to get the drinks they had asked for, Brendon rushed over to him.

«Okay, I take it from here», he said.

Tyler shook his head.

«I don't think so», he firmly answered back, «I was there first.»

Brendon gave him a sickly sweet, fake smile and placed his hand on his cheek.

«I don't believe you're understanding, Ty», he hissed, «It would be better to let me do my thing.»

With a nod, he showed him the human lamppost who now sat at the table.

«It's you who's not understanding», Tyler snarled, shooting the pink haired guy a quick glance.

A furious staring contest followed. It ended in a tie, since both of them lowered their gaze at the same time.

«Alright, okay, this is how it's going to go down: take their orders, I help with the pizzas later», Brendon planned, «And if you even so much as touch the handsome giraffe's one you're dead, Joseph.»

Tyler rolled his eyes, but shook his hand anyway.

 

 

«I'm getting great vibes», said Dallon, «This is the place. This is where you'll find your soulmate.»

He didn't exactly know whether if he was talking to Patrick or to himself: he was still trying to recover from the view of a waiter with a mouth who would bring sinful thoughts to the purest of minds.

Patrick didn't answer. He was fully concentrated on the menu he held in front of him, even though everyone knew that he would choose a margherita in the end.

«The original, purest form of pizza», he had said to them at the beginning of their ordeal, «The truest, and therefore the best to verify the talent of a pizza chef.»

Tyler came to get their orders and couldn't take his eyes off Josh, but then again, Josh couldn't take his off Tyler.

«What can I get you?», he asked, absentmindedly.

 _You, possibly without any clothes on_ , thought Josh.

«A four cheese», he said instead.

 _I would have preferred to get you myself, without any clothes on,_ thought Tyler as he scribbled on his notepad.

The others ordered as well and, needless to say, Patrick asked for the pizza everyone was expecting him to ask for.

As soon as Tyler left, the atmosphere sorrounding doomstable filled with expectation.

Patrick noisily cracked his knuckles and the four friends went completely silent.

 

 

«Pete, please», Tyler whispered, placing the piece of paper where Pete would be able to see it without problems, «Do your best. These orders are important.»

Pete looked up from the dough he was lovingly shaping and glared at Tyler.

His stern eyes reminded him those of his mother when, during the sweet childhood years Tyler looked back at with nostalgia, she used to yell stuff like: “TYLER ROBERT JOSEPH CLIMB OFF THAT TREE IMMEDIATELY OR FOR AS FAR AS I'M CONCERNED YOU CAN MOVE UP THERE AND NEVER SET FOOT IN MY HOUSE EVER AGAIN”.

«Each and every pizza is as important as the other ones, Ty», he told him, dead serious.

Tyler turned white.

«Don't be like that, Wentzy», Brendon pleaded, patting Tyler's shoulder, «Our little friend has a little crush.»

Tyler rolled his eyes and swatted his hand away brusquely.

«The repetition of the word “little” was totally unnecessary», he spat, «And, at any rate, I'm not the only one with a crush in here. Or am I mistaken, Daddy Long Legs?»

Brendon gave him another one of his exquisitely false smiles and got back to what he was supposed to be doing.

 

 

«I'll take those to the table», Jack declared when he saw the newly made pizzas.

There was no one to welcome inside, for the time being. The restaurant overflowed with people who seemed satisfied to say the least, and everything was going as planned.

He had worked hard all day and he believed he had earned the right to bring some magnificent food to a magnificent blue-haired guy.

«Oh, come on», Tyler groaned, «You too, now?»

Jack, who wasn't aware of the developments, raised his eyebrows questioningly.

«What are you on about?», he asked.

Tyler didn't have the time to answer, because Brendon chimed in with a: «You guys need to stop having crushes at the same time I do. It's rude, and honestly pretty fucking annoying! You only do it to steal the show!»

«And here I thought I'd do you a favour, working in your place!» Jack shouted. «Ungrateful little bitches, that's what you are. One bends over backwards to be a good friend and this is what he gets in return!»

«That table was mine, you are the ones to always complicate things with your inability of minding your own business!» Tyler said in a whiny voice.

At that point they started hitting each other, and Pete decided enough was enough. Not because the altercation had become a public matter and everyone was now staring at them, but for the sake of pizzas.

«Stop it», he cut them off.

Tyler came to a halt, his hand raised, and Brendon decided not to headbutt Jack – who was holding him by the shoulders – after all.

«How many times do I have to tell you not to argue in front of the children?»

Then, he proved incredible mastery: he took the infamous four plates himself and brought them to doomstable.

The clients were ready, forks in hand, and he didn't go back to his workplace because he wanted to see their reactions to his creations.

Everyone appeared to be waiting for a verdict.

Patrick didn't take his eyes off the very attractive (what? sometimes you just gotta appreciate) pizza chef while taking a bite from the slice he had carefully cut out.

It felt like falling in love.

Different flavours blended together like never before, to the point where Patrick thought he had discovered at least five that were possibly still unknown to the human race.

He hadn't ever found thinner and softer dough, nor better-tasting tomato sauce, nor mozzarella melted that well in twenty-three years of career as a pizza eater.

The look on his face convinced the others that they had to taste for themselves.

No objections were raised when Patrick threw himself on the ground, took Pete's hand in his and asked him without mincing words if he wanted to marry him.

Pete thought about it carefully, then shrugged.

«Pizza will always be my One True Love, she owns this ass», he said.

Warning that stranger seemed only fair to him, especially since said stranger was really very cute and Pete didn't want to risk hurting his feelings.

Patrick lit up even more, if humanly possible.

«Oh, this, too», he assured, as if he was stating the obvious.

No one said a word. You could have heard a pin drop.

«Well, if you put it like this, okay», Pete agreed, «I'll marry you.»

The entire restaurant burst into cheers, and people who didn't know each other at all started hugging and conversating about the future wedding that Patrick's and Pete's friends had already started planning (using that as an excuse to flirt to their deaths).

Patrick got back on his feet and someone who was randomly passing by pushed him into Pete, movie style.

They both laughed, because that happens in movies, too, then Pete realised he had overlooked something that was actually quite important and, scratching the back of his neck, asked:

«I'm sorry, what's your name again?»


End file.
